Not My Type
by TheTroubleWithSkittles
Summary: Kyouko's being loud in the middle of the night again... A fic exploring the parallel universe where Homura and Kyouko have a sense of humor and unresolved sexual tension. Warning: contains intense girl-on-girl flirting and lots of unruly feathers.


**Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, I just play with them. **

"Ayyyyyyah!" Thud.

Another crash shook the ceiling. Blearily, Homura rolled over, checked the clock, and groaned. She was used to odd noises coming from Kyouko's upstairs apartment, but loud parkour at 1:27 am was going to be a problem.

Homura curled back up again, thinking vengeful thoughts.

Another thud, this time muffled.

Quite suddenly, sobbing.

Homura opened her eyes. She listened, unsettled, as the crying grew louder and louder. Her heart began to tremble along with the ceiling. Hesitantly, she called out. "Kyouko?"

Silence.

"Kyouko?"

Witches. Kyouko was fighting witches. The food chain. She was going to get eaten. Homura sat up. "Kyouko!" Parkour be damned, witches at 1:29 could not wait until morning.

The elevator had never moved so slowly.

Kyouko's door, however, swung open in fear the instant it saw her coming. Homura flew in, still half asleep, prepared to face demons.

Instead, she was hit with a pillow.

Kyouko stood next to the bed, her face tear-stained and dangerous, wielding a spear and covered in feathers. Shredded pillowcases settled in snowdrifts around her boots. She met Homura's eyes and flushed scarlet.

No longer worried about witches, Homura's other half woke up, and began snickering. "A tantrum? How cute."

Self-consciously shaking feathers out of her hair, Kyouko did her best to look fierce. "If you tell anyone, I will kill you."

Homura smirked. "Yes, like the pillows."

Kyouko scowled as assertively as possible.

Homura's heart melted. "You're upset. What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Kyouko threw her spear to the floor and kicked at the bed frame. Homura studied her intently through the dim light. "Nothing is a girl?" She considered for a moment. "Ah. Nothing has blue hair and a boyfriend."

"What?" Kyouko looked up. "Sayaka?"

Homura's voice had an edge to it. "She's reckless. You suit each other."

Kyouko snorted. "Hardly. Saintly is a turn off."

"You're not in love with Sayaka?"

"_Straight_ is a turn off."

A strange feeling of relief rose in Homura's chest. She reevaluated. "Mami?"

Kyouko shoved her hands in the pockets of her shorts. "Saintly."

Homura raised an eyebrow. "You don't like blondes?"

"Not when they're saintly."

Homura paused. "Hitomi?"

Kyouko deadpanned. "Yes, woe is me, I'm desperately in love with Hitomi. I couldn't resist her big brown eyes and deep-set fear of lesbian sex."

They made eye contact and tried to resist giggling.

So it wasn't about a girl. Homura's heart felt lighter. She snagged a drifting feather out of the air and blew it towards Kyouko.

Kyouko smiled mischievously. She snatched a pillow carcass and chucked it at Homura. "Ayyah!"

Homura's fighting instincts kicked in. Feathers, pillows, and shrieks were flung back and forth in a labyrinth of flailing limbs and bed sheets as they chased each other around the room.

Sure-footed as she usually was, Kyouko's dancing at the arcade had not prepared her for the blizzard conditions inside her apartment. Ducking a flying pillow, she put a foot down on her spear and promptly went sprawling onto the bed. Homura collapsed next to her, heart pounding and nose twitching from a newfound feather allergy.

"Rematch," Kyouko moaned.

Homura caught her breath. "Doubt your pillows are up for it."

They lay on their backs panting, watching as the last few feathers wafted through air currents and settled into the layer of fluff covering the bed.

"Kyouko?"

"Yeah?"

Homura was cautious. "Why were you so angry earlier?"

Kyouko sighed and closed her eyes. "Madoka."

Homura sat straight up and choked. "You're in love with Madoka?"

Kyouko opened her eyes and lifted her head. "Would that _bother_ you Homura?"

Homura's heart thudded in her chest, blood rushing to her ears. With an intake of breath, she stared at Kyouko. "Yes."

Kyouko spat out her words. "She's a tease. You suit each other."

"What?" Homura frowned. "If you love her shouldn't you be the one she suits, Idiot?"

Kyouko let out growl of frustration. "Don't play games with me. I see the way you look at her. You're so protective you won't even let Kyubey near her, and he's a boy. Go ahead rub it in my face. Go fight with her pillows and stop tempting me!"

"You were upset because you thought I loved Madoka?" Homura gaped. "I'm not in love with Madoka."

Kyouko looked at her with wounded eyes. "Don't lie to me."

"No," Homura said. "I protect Madoka from Kyubey. She cannot become a magic girl. That's it."

They were silent.

Kyouko sat up. "Are you certain?"

Homura nodded. "Angelic is a turn off."

Kyouko considered this. "You don't like strawberry blondes?"

Homura shook her head. "Madoka is not my type."

Kyouko grinned. "Okay, what is your type?"

"Redheads."

Hope radiated from Kyouko. "What sort of redheads?"

"Crazy girls who attack pillows instead of letting me sleep."

Kyouko raised an eyebrow. "Homura?"

"Yes?"

Kyouko kissed her.

Their lips met, perfectly matched in desperate intensity. Homura tasted sugar, tear-stained and dangerous. Losing all pretext of friendship, they fell backwards into the feathers and wrestled with the buttons on Homura's shirt.

Kyouko rolled on top pinning Homura to the bed. "Rematch!"

"Good thing the pillows aren't in our way."


End file.
